The Blue Link

by Carol Caiton

  So here he stood, navigating the murky universe of feminine emotion, frustrated with indecision and beating back the edginess of unfulfilled desire. One thing had become clear during that brief time with her, though. Not only was Nina a young woman on the brink of sexual discovery, her uninitiated body was aching for it.

  When his cell rang he saw Malcolm's name on the screen and took the call.

  "Yetzer."

  "I've just received a call from Rita," Malcolm said. "Our receptionist has turned in her resignation."

  "So Michael was right again."

  "He hasn't been wrong yet. See that Ethan is made aware of it, will you?"

  "Hmmph. What do you do, take turns assigning us the dirty work?"

  "You've found me out."

  "Why don't you tell him yourself?"

  "Because I'm just pulling in at the airport. You'll see him tonight, won't you?"

  "Why would I see him tonight?"

  "Isn't Nina staying at his house?"

  Simon hesitated, then said, "How did you know that?"

  Malcolm paused in response. "I happened to be man-on-the-spot instead of Michael on that one."

  "It's making the rounds already?"

  "No. Not gossip. I overheard Nina talking with Libby Pye who, by the way, is an ally in your corner. She tried to talk your Nina out of it."

  Simon grunted. "I won't be seeing Ethan tonight. I'm heading for the airport this afternoon myself."

  "Thanksgiving with the family?"

  "Yes. I didn't think to mention it earlier."

  "All right then. I'll phone him after I pass through security. Have a good trip."

  "You too."

  Simon disconnected. It chafed at him to know Malcolm was aware of Nina's living arrangements. He'd hoped to change that situation before anyone learned of it. And now he was about to lose valuable time, heading out of town while she settled in three doors down.

  * * *

  Nina parked in the driveway, careful to pull as far to the side as possible so she wouldn't block Ethan when he backed out of the garage the next day. Inside her purse was the remote that operated the door but it was late and she was pretty sure the master suite was located near the garage. The sound of the door gliding open, then closing again, might wake him up.

  So she turned off the engine, climbed out from behind the steering wheel, and gave the door a little bump with her hip when it didn't close all the way. At least there wouldn't be an oil leak to stain his beautiful pavers. A few months ago that would have been a problem, but she'd finally had it taken care of. Still, the people who lived in this neighborhood probably paid to have their driveways cleaned twice a year. Ethan probably did. His yard was edged and neatly manicured. The inside of his house was spotless. She hadn't even seen a balled-up sock on the floor of his bedroom the night she'd armed herself with a kitchen knife and barged in.

  He'd been drinking that night. He'd been drinking again tonight and he'd started using her as a sounding board for his temper.

  Approaching the front door, she wondered if all wealthy men were abrasive and quick to show it or if it was a characteristic shared only by the dynamic alpha type. Simon certainly had no difficulty communicating his anger. Michael Vassek, too. But she'd been learning to stand up for herself. It was either that or get trampled underfoot and left on the sidewalk to scoop up the pieces.

  Pausing on the driveway, she reconsidered that last part. All three of them—Simon, Ethan, and Michael—had come to her rescue at one time or another. And Michael didn't even pretend to like her. Instead, he seemed to be keeping a tally of personal obligations to be repaid, as though he didn't want to be indebted to anyone. She smiled. Maybe she should start keeping score too so she could stay one up on him. It was certainly preferable to his cold shoulder treatment.

  She was pretty sure Ethan didn't like her either. And he probably kept score as well. But he might think she was in the lead right now. Beside the fact that she'd assisted RUSH by drawing Serena Mandek's murderer, he would have seen it as another point in her favor when she kept Michael out of trouble. And the frosting on the cake was the fact that she'd come to his rescue by driving him home when he was too drunk to walk a straight line. He didn't particularly like being indebted to her though, and he had no qualms about showing it. He probably didn't realize he'd more than paid her back by opening his house to her.

  Sliding her key into the deadbolt, she thought about the little message she'd left beside his dinner plate—a four-window Peanuts comic strip featuring Lucy and her impossibly large mouth during a full-blown temper tantrum. Nina had drawn a red arrow pointing to her mouth and then written, "This is you."

  She wondered how he had reacted when he saw it . . . if he saw it at all. Fed up with his attitude, she'd called him to dinner, then left the house instead of sharing a meal with him. As usual, she'd charged her dinner to her account at Magnolias, enjoying the peaceful reprieve next to a dining room window. And now she was tired.

  Letting herself into the house, she set her purse on the floor beside the door and reset the alarm. The foyer light was on again, bright enough to show the way to the kitchen. But once there she had to feel around for the light switch.

  A comfortable glow lit the room when she dimmed it and she expected to see the last of Mrs. Deggens's casserole, completely dried out and crusty. But the table had been cleared. There were no dishes cluttered on the breakfast counter, and the little gift she'd left beside Ethan's plate was gone.

  Walking over to the dishwasher, she opened the door and saw his used dinner plate on the bottom shelf. Behind it, the empty casserole dish, partially rinsed, sat on the rack.

  "Where the hell have you been?"

  She jumped, released the door, then slammed her hip against the corner of it as she whirled around.

  "Ow!"

  Grabbing the top of her thigh, she tried to squeeze the pain away.

  Ethan scowled, walked around the counter and set his drink on the granite. "Are you all right?"

  She scowled right back at him. "I'll live. Aren't you ever in a nice amiable mood?"

  "When I'm not pacing around the house wondering if you're dead or alive, yeah, I'm beside myself with joy."

  "That is such a lie."

  He raised a brow, then gestured toward her hip. "Want me to take a look at that?"

  "No. I'm fine."

  She stopped massaging it although it didn't feel any better. But she didn't want him to know how badly it hurt because she wasn't going to unbutton her jeans and give him a look at her in a G-string.

  "Where were you?" he demanded again. He still wore the same suit pants and dress shirt he'd worn to work. His sleeves were rolled up a few inches on his forearms and he reached for the shot glass on the countertop.

  "I went to RUSH," she answered.

  "You left RUSH two hours ago."

  She met his eyes. "You checked up on me?"

  "When ten o'clock came and went, yes. You left without eating dinner, disappeared for hours, then disappeared again when you left RUSH."

  She knew it was late, but she hadn't expected him to worry. "Libby and I went to McDonald's for a late snack," she said. "Then I had to drive her back."

  "I want your cell number. And you'd better damn well answer it when I call."

  She turned on the faucet and washed her hands for something to do. "I don't have a cell phone."

  He shut the water off.

  She hadn't even rinsed away the soap.

  "Everyone has a cell phone."

  It sounded like an accusation, as though she'd only said that as an excuse not to give him her number.

  "Well I don't," she said and turned the water back on with the edge of her hand.

  Ethan remained silent. She knew he watched her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Living in his beautiful house, driving a car that was older than she was, it embarrassed her to admit she couldn't afford something as simple as a cell phone.

  Thankfully
he didn't press.

  "I didn't hear the garage door open," he said instead.

  "I parked in the driveway." She looked up. "I wasn't sure if it would wake you."

  "Obviously I wasn't asleep."

  "Well I didn't know that. What time do you usually go to bed?"

  "Whenever I feel like it."

  Sighing, she dried her hands.

  "Look at me," he ordered.

  Surprised, she obeyed.

  "Park your car in the garage. Always. I don't care if wakes me up or not. Park in the garage."

  Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was because she'd just finished thinking about the ocean of difference between his financial state and her own, but his words stung a place deep inside. "I'm sorry my car embarrasses you. I hadn't thought of that—"

  "Stop right there."

  The bottom of his glass hit the granite with a decisive thunk and his eyes blazed with so much anger, she took a step back.

  "You're a woman alone, getting out of her car late at night. Do you need to be attacked a second time before you learn not to take chances?"

  She inhaled sharply.

  "Park inside the garage so it becomes a habit. And don't insult me like that again." He glared at her, then turned his back and stalked away. "Fuck it," he snarled. "Do whatever the hell you want."

  She watched him leave the room, then sagged against the counter. He was worse than Simon. At least Simon was prepared to apologize. Sometimes. Even if it was only because he had a vested interest. But Ethan . . . . She stared at the glass he'd left on the counter. It was hard to reconcile the foul-mouthed, explosive drunk with the man she'd seen romancing Denny Cooper.

  Maybe she should rethink moving in with Simon—if he ever forgave her. She was ready to admit she might have jumped to conclusions when she'd fled his house. And she was willing to concede there might be more to their blue link than she'd first thought. Whenever they spent time with one another, quality time, she found she liked him more than before. If she stood firm and told him she wanted her own bedroom he wouldn't like it but he'd probably agree.

  Pushing away from the counter, she left Ethan's glass where it was, turned off the light, and headed back to the foyer for her purse. She wouldn't make up her mind right now. She was too tired to reexamine all the pros and cons. But she'd sleep on it and take time in the morning to give it serious thought.

  The house was chilly so she got an extra blanket from the closet before climbing into bed. Then, closing her eyes she stretched and settled on her side.

  Ethan had left the foyer light on for her again.

  CHAPTER 28

  "Are you spending the day with your family?" he asked when Nina rose from the breakfast table.

  He looked up from his mug of coffee, freshly showered and dressed in dark slacks and a gray pullover sweater, the sleeves pushed up around his forearms. How he managed to appear refreshed and alert after a night of drinking she didn't know, but he'd been up and in the kitchen before she'd climbed out of bed. Then he'd stood guard over the coffeepot, refusing to share until she agreed to cook breakfast.

  Plate and juice glass in hand, she paused at the sink and reminded herself to mask the pain his question brought. It was Thanksgiving Day. She'd expected him to ask and she thought she'd prepared for it. But now that she had to answer, the words caught in her chest.

  Each time she and Lydia talked on the phone she'd hoped her sister would say their parents wanted her to come home for Thanksgiving dinner. It crushed her when the words never came, when she had to remind herself that they didn't want her there.

  Opening the dishwasher, she bent down, allowing her hair to fall forward and hide her face. "No," she told him, hoping her voice sounded normal. "Not this year."

  Ethan didn't comment. But she felt his eyes on her, felt them follow every move as she straightened, then bent over to add another dish to the rack, then another.

  The silence lengthened. Her stomach began to coil and tighten. He was waiting for her to elaborate, to tell him why she'd be spending Thanksgiving alone.

  The dishes clattered against one another, sounding particularly sharp in the quiet. A fork slid out of her fingers and pinged against the frying pan.

  Sighing, she filled the sink with soapy water, refusing to meet his eyes.

  She wiped the stovetop.

  She wiped the counter.

  She wiped the counter again.

  Finally she dropped the sponge into the water and glared at him. "What?!"

  His mouth curved in an open, engaging grin. "Touchy today aren't you?"

  She ignored that. "Why are you staring at me?"

  He crossed one ankle over his knee, relaxed back in his chair and said, "Curiosity."

  She knew it. Releasing the drain, she rinsed the sink and set the sponge off to the side.

  "Don't you want to know what I'm curious about?"

  "No."

  "Too bad. I'm curious because my grandmother's going to think we're sleeping together."

  Nina looked up again. "Your grandmother? She thinks you and I are a couple?"

  "Not yet. But she will."

  Nina frowned. His tone of voice suggested the prospect of that happening didn't bother him. But at least he hadn't asked why she was spending Thanksgiving alone. "Does your grandmother know I'm staying here?"

  "Not unless she's dropped by and seen you."

  "She hasn't. Not that I know of. But you sound awfully relaxed about it."

  "Mmm."

  "Well doesn't it worry you? Do you want her to know I'm living here?"

  "I haven't decided yet."

  She stared at him. "What kind of answer is that? You'd mislead her? Your grandmother?"

  "Honey, I won't have to mislead her. She'll do that all on her own."

  He pushed to his feet and brought his mug around to the sink. Nudging her aside, he rinsed it, then put it in the dishwasher. "All done here?"

  "I . . . yes."

  "Then go get your purse."

  She raised her eyes to his. "Why?"

  "Because I'm taking you to my grandmother's house for Thanksgiving dinner."

  The invitation surprised her not only because it was unexpected, but because it came from Ethan. She'd just come to terms with the fact that he didn't like her.

  Still looking into his eyes she said, "Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I'm not going to barge in on your family gathering."

  "It's not a family gathering. It's my grandmother and me. And you won't be barging in because she's expecting me to bring someone. Here." He tore off a paper towel and handed it to her. "Dry your hands."

  She took the paper towel as comprehension settled over her. He'd been planning to take Denny Cooper. If by chance he hadn't mentioned Denny's name, his grandmother would never know he'd substituted one girl for another. Nor would he have to explain that the real one had left him for someone else.

  "Ethan." Her heart filled with compassion.

  But his eyes chilled at her tone and the change from easy camaraderie to frosty detachment was instantaneous.

  Immediately she caught herself. He didn't want her sympathy or anyone else's. His male pride had taken a blow. His emotions as well, she was sure.

  Switching tactics, she turned her response into one of gratitude. "I'd love to go to your grandmother's house for Thanksgiving. Thank you for asking me."

  She held his gaze, filling her own with warmth and sincerity. If he wanted her to sit in for another girl, she had no problem with that. If he wanted her to pretend her name was Denny for the day, she wouldn't have a problem with that either. And if he'd only invited her to assuage his own discomfort, that was all right too. At least she wouldn't be sitting in an empty house all day, crying and punishing herself over and over again.

  So she smiled her appreciation and watched as something flared in his eyes. For a few seconds he looked back at her, the hard chill dissolving into a thoughtful frown before he pushed away from the dishwasher and walked bac
k around to the other side of the island.

  Pleasure filled her with the hope of future harmony. It might be fleeting, but she felt as though something had passed between them, maybe a chip in the wall of his dislike. Maybe she wouldn't have to move her things to Simon's house after all. If she gave it a little more time here, she and Ethan might gradually become friends.

  "Do you have any other family?" she asked, tossing the paper towel into the trash.

  "Did I ask why you were planning to spend Thanksgiving alone?"

  She blinked.

  "And as much as I wanted to, I didn't ask if that had anything to do with your swollen face the day you moved to RUSH."

  It was a verbal attack and she flinched.

  "Nor did I ask if Simon knew you were planning to spend the day alone before he took off for New York."

  "Stop! Stop it." Emotion crowded around her heart. "I'm sorry for prying. I didn't know I was prying. It was just a simple question."

  She turned away and started to leave the room. Maybe it would be better all around if she did spend the day alone. Ethan could be as heartless and cutting as Simon when it suited him. He knew right where to aim those arrows so they did the most damage.

  "Nina."

  She paused, but she didn't turn around.

  "Sometimes simple questions open old wounds."

  His words rested in the silence between them. Is that what she'd done? Opened old wounds? Just as he had? Did he bear scars because of a family tragedy, burying his pain as she did?

  She turned back to face him. "I think it would be better if I stayed here today."

  "Why?"

  "Because I don't want this to happen again in front of your grandmother and I don't know you well enough to know which subjects are taboo."

  "Yes you do," he said quietly. "You're familiar with the only two that could cause a problem."

  Two topics. Denny Cooper and his family.

  It wasn't an apology. He had deliberately attacked her. But it was an olive branch. He'd told her a great deal with that remark. And he'd given something of himself.